


Home

by delighted



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 18:52:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11904024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delighted/pseuds/delighted
Summary: (Okay, I’m finally dealing with the season seven finale. And that’s all I’m going to say here.....)





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Phillip Phillips’ “Home,” which I heard while I was planning this fic, and it just seemed perfect. It's also nice to listen to if you get too gloomy from the theme here (or even just read the lyrics).... I think I listened to it ten times while I was writing..... 
> 
> That being said.  
> Alright. Two warnings:  
> One, because yeah I chose not to use archive warnings. It's not light and fluffy. It's not super grim either, but it does deal with Steve's illness. You've been warned.  
> Two: It’s not as polished as I’d like, but I've spent too much time on it already, and I want to move on to other stories, so.... Hopefully it gets the gist across of what I was going for. 
> 
> One last note: I have zero medical knowledge, and I stubbornly refused to research this, so everything here is just what I wanted it to be for the story.

The first symptom Steve had noticed hadn’t been nausea, or dizziness, or weakness, or tiredness, or any of the many symptoms that came later. The first one had been dreams. Really, really vivid dreams. Now, Steve was no stranger to vivid dreams. You don’t live the kind of life he’s lived and not have an intimate knowledge of nightmares so realistic they’re almost worse than the original experience. But these were not nightmares. And, to be totally honest, he wasn’t sure he’d ever had such vivid dreams that were not of the terrifying variety. Not since he could remember, anyway. These dreams _were_ unsettling though. They were perfectly clear, the kind you can touch and smell, the kind that leave you feeling like they still have a grip on you hours after you’ve gotten out of bed.

And they were, all of them, about Danny.

And the thing was, he’d grown rather attached to them.

So, when the other symptoms started being too loud for him to ignore, and when the diagnosis had come, his first thought hadn’t been any of the things you might have assumed. His very first thought had been “What if the medicine makes the dreams stop?” The doctors hadn’t had an answer for that, but they had insisted that he needed the medicine and fast, so he’d taken it, hoping that it wouldn’t affect his dreams.

Turns out he needn’t have worried. Not only did the medicine not make the dreams go away, it increased their intensity.

At first he’d been relieved. The dreams had become a comfort to him, because he had figured it was the closest he’d get to the relationship he wanted with Danny. There had been times, over the years, when he’d dared to hope. There had even been one time they’d come close—near death experiences and the heavy drinking that invariably followed had once brought them inches away from kissing, but he’d been sober enough to know he didn’t want it to happen like that, so he had turned it into a hug, and regretted it ever since.

But after a while, the rich fulfillment of the dreams—in sharp contrast to the emptiness of waking life—began to be too much, and maybe it was his mortality (which had always in some way been staring him in the face) knocking ever more loudly on the door, but Steve found himself increasingly discontented with only having what he so longed for in his dreams.

Thing was. He really didn’t know what his life was going to look like now, with this. No one did. They made guesses, and he knew they tried to soften blows, but he had enough experience with things like this to be very aware that you just couldn’t know for sure. And that was also nothing new for Steve. He’d always felt that way about his life—and his death. This was just another version of that.

Except. He couldn’t stop thinking about Danny.

He’d worked himself up to the idea of telling Danny how he felt. Like five times. And each time, he’d seen the pain Danny would feel, if the worst happened. And he’d convince himself it was better left alone.

The interesting part of all of this was that not once did Steve question if Danny felt the same way he did. And probably he should have. He’d certainly questioned it plenty of times before. Like seven years worth of times. But somehow... and maybe it was the dreams, maybe it was the drugs, but Steve didn’t question it any more. He knew. He was also pretty sure that Danny had no idea how Steve really felt about him. And he knew that was his fault. And sometimes he thought the sickness he felt had less to do with the radiation and more to do with his own damn guilt over having never done anything about his feelings for Danny. And now it was too late. Now, the best he could do was to blunt the hurt as much as he could. Make everything as easy as it could be.

He might have succeeded in that, if he’d been a stronger person. But it turned out he really wasn’t very strong at all.

One night, not long after he’d finally confessed to Danny about his illness, Steve couldn’t sleep. He didn’t plan on going to Danny’s, didn’t think he was even paying attention to where he was driving, just wanted to be out, under the sky, trying to get away—from what he didn’t even know. The unbearable quiet of his house, probably. But he’d ended up in front of Danny’s house, sometime between one and two, and he’d seen the TV flickering in the living room window. And he’d choked on suppressed tears, because he knew it meant Danny wasn’t sleeping. Probably hadn’t been sleeping. Probably since he’d found out about Steve. And that made Steve want to throw up. So he’d gone and knocked on the door. Just once. And the speed with which Danny answered it told him more than he wanted to know.

“You look tired.” Danny’s eyes were red—either from too much TV, not enough sleep, or maybe that other thing... but Steve couldn’t think about that.

“I _am_ tired.” He almost wanted to laugh.

Danny was holding the remote, and he turned off the TV, moved aside to let Steve in, but rather than going back to the sofa, he walked toward his room. Closing and locking the door behind him, Steve followed, tentatively at first, then confidently, finding some courage somewhere, or maybe just a sense of “fuck it,” because really what did he have to lose at this point.

They crawled into bed together, and Danny cradled Steve against him. Held him close, ran his fingers over his head, down his arms. It was the most soothing thing Steve thought he’d ever felt from another human being. He’d only felt soothed like that before by the ocean. This was... this was a whole other thing completely. After a while, he realized he didn’t feel nauseous, didn’t feel dizzy, didn’t feel that kind of low-level icky feeling he’d begun to be used to on a somewhat regular basis. He’d taken his meds before he’d left the house, but they didn’t usually work that fast....

He knew what it was.

He stirred in Danny’s arms and pulled back enough to find those blue eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, though he wasn’t sure what would come out, but Danny shook his head, and put a finger to Steve’s lips.

“We’ll talk in the morning, okay? Just... just sleep.” And he yawned, and Steve half wondered how much it was that Danny was simply too tired to have the conversation they clearly needed to have, so he nodded, and pulled Danny close, and within moments they were both asleep.

Well, of course, life had other ideas, and they only got a few hours sleep before they were called out to a case. And things got a little crazy after that, and Rachel needed Danny’s help with the kids, and Steve got caught up in some administrative issues and police politics. And several days went by, and the most they got was a couple of moments to look in each others’ eyes and say “We’ll talk soon.”

And maybe it was just too easy to not face it. Maybe they got a bit swept up in things, and Steve was doing better for a while, and there were distractions. And maybe Steve was afraid what Danny would say. And he didn’t know what _he_ wanted to say. He didn’t know what he wanted. Well, he _did_. He just didn’t feel he had the right to _have_ it. Not now. Not when he could have had it for so many years but had been too frightened to ask.

Fortunately, Danny doesn’t have issues like that. Also, fortunately, he’s kind of good at seeing through Steve. At least some of the time.

So, that Friday after work, Danny didn’t give Steve a chance to get away. He took his keys from him, dragged him to the Camaro, pushed him in, and drove him home. Once they were there, he got two beers out of the fridge, then took Steve by the hand, led him upstairs, and out to the lanai. Once they’d both had a few sips, Danny turned to face him on the wicker sofa.

“How long.”

“Danny, I told you, they don’t know.”

“Not that, you jackass. How long have you been in love with me.”

Steve sucked a breath in. Why did that sting so much? He should have seen it coming, really. “Danny....”

“No, you know what, you don’t get to fuck around with this anymore. I know it’s been a while, I realize that now.” He pulled at his beer label with a pained expression on his face. “But I need to know how long.” He set his bottle down and looked back up at Steve expectantly.

Steve sighed, ran his hand over his hair. At least he still had hair. “I don’t know.”

Danny’s eyes closed. “Yes. You do.” His eyes opened, and there was that searching look, the one that always got to Steve, the one that made him feel totally exposed. “ _How long, Steven_.”

Oh god it pained him to admit this. He knew it would upset Danny. It upset _him_. On so many levels. But it had to come out, so he took a deep breath. “The sarin. Since the sarin. Well, that’s when I realized.”

“Shit.”

Steve tried to swallow. “Yeah.”

“You _jerk_.” Danny’s voice nearly broke.

“Danny.” Steve wanted to reach out to him, but Danny sensed that and pulled back.

“I would have—” he broke off and hid his face in his hands. “ _Shit_.”

“I’m sorry.” It was pathetic, he knew, but it was all he had.

Danny’s head flew up, his eyes flashing, his expression more hurt than Steve had ever seen. “Sorry? You’re sorry? You absolute— _arrrgh_. I would have... you know? I would have. I fucking would have.”

Steve couldn’t answer, he could barely breathe. And suddenly Danny was looking at him very, very strangely.

“And you know what? I think you knew that.” His tone was terrifying. Accusatory, and so angry.

“I was going to tell you,” Steve’s voice was practically a whisper.

“Oh, yeah? When? Huh? When were you going to tell me?”

He took a breath. Because Danny might not be remembering that day very well, but Steve sure did. “That day at the hospital.”

“So why didn’t you?!” Danny spat it out before he’d thought. Before he’d remembered. Because Rachel had been there. At the hospital. In Danny’s bed _._ Steve watched as the realization dawned in Danny’s eyes. “ _Fuck_.”

Steve couldn’t hold back any longer, he moved towards Danny and put a hand on his arm. “Danny. We can’t do this. We can’t go through seven years of ‘why not then,’ it’ll kill us.”

“So what _do_ we do? Huh, Steven? What the fuck do we do?”

He set his beer down. Tried to smile. “The other night was really nice.”

Danny spit out a laugh. “ _You_ are an _asshole_.”

“Do you disagree?” Steve couldn’t help but smile. Danny’s words were still angry, but the tone had softened.

“No, of course not you jerk. I finally slept which was really fucking nice, thank you.”

His smile grew. Because that gave him a way forward, and that was something he really needed right now. “Well... and I’m just being practical here, but if you only sleep when you’re with me, I think that gives us one of our answers, or at least a starting place....”

“Just so we’re clear, I hate you.”

“That’s not a no.”

Danny stood. “You need to eat something.”

“You’re not going to answer me are you.” Steve hid his smirk behind his hand.

Danny probably noticed, because he scowled. “You don’t deserve that yet.”

“Okay, Danny. Whatever you say.” Steve took his hand away as he grinned.

So Danny made Steve dinner. And he made him sit on the sofa and watch TV while he cleaned up. And then he made him shower and get in bed.

“I’m not an invalid, you know.” To be honest he hadn’t minded being pampered, but he felt the need to say something, because he knew how Danny could get. Danny might call Steve controlling, but that was nothing compared to how Danny got when he felt Steve needed protecting.

“Just make sure you keep it that way.” A veiled threat... well, not very veiled.

“In other words, do as you say?” Steve’s mind was already doing fun things with the idea.

“Well, that would be a miracle, wouldn’t it?”

And that hurt, more than it should have. Because he wanted Danny to know he was trying, that he _would_ try. That things would be different now. “ _Danny_.”

“No, just hang on. I have to make a phone call, then I will shower and join you. Can you hang on for ten minutes?”

“Yeah. Absolutely.”

Danny was a lot longer than ten minutes, though, and Steve fell asleep waiting for him. But when a damp Danny Williams crawled into his bed something like an hour later, Steve’s body responded without his even really being aware. Maybe he’d been dreaming of it for too long, maybe he was a bit dizzy from the emotions or the damn radiation. But when he felt Danny settle next to him, his heart, his mind, his body all settled, just like they’d done before.

“What took you so long?” He asked sleepily.

“I had to sell my soul to convince Rachel to keep the kids this weekend, so we could be together.”

“Danny, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, Steve, I did.” And Danny kissed the back of Steve’s neck.

“Mmmmm, s’nice,” he slurred as he fell back asleep, his heart feeling full but lopsided.

When Steve woke up in the morning, he could feel Danny beside him, could tell he was awake before he opened his eyes. Sure enough, there was that worried look, the one that had always been at the top of Danny’s list of facial expressions, too readily chosen at the least provocation. It wasn’t helping Steve’s guilt.

“You can’t look at me like that all the time, you know.”

“Oh? And why not? I don’t exactly trust you right now. How am I supposed to learn to do that?”

“Danny,” he sighed. “Shit. This is why I didn’t want to tell you.....”

“Why, Steven, because you were scared you’d piss me off?” Danny was still quick to the angry tone. Steve’s heart sank.

“No, because I didn’t want to hurt you. There’s no way this doesn’t hurt, doesn’t suck, doesn’t....”

“Jesus, Steve. You don’t get to decide that, you jackass. You absolute....” And Steve was a little afraid Danny might hit him, which he felt he deserved, and actually kind of wished he would—but when Danny hit, he hit hard.

Instead, Danny kissed him. And kissed him again. And _then_ he hit him.

“Ouch.” But the kisses had softened the blow. Heck, maybe if Danny kissed him each time he got hurt.... He rubbed his arm where Danny’d hit, but he knew he was grinning. Danny rolled his eyes.

“Alright, don’t get carried away.”

Steve straightened his face, returned to the serious matter at hand. “Danny. I’m sorry.”

“Okay, two things. One. I don’t want to hear that you’re sorry, okay? We both can share the blame for that, although I’ll never forgive you for not telling me... you can figure out how to try to make that up to me. Thing two, you don’t get to decide to protect me anymore, alright? If we do this—and we _are_ doing this—I get to know everything. You do not try to protect me. No being chivalrous. If I’m in, I’m all the way in.”

“Are you sure, Danny, because... you do _not_ have to do this. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself in for....”

“Do you think that matters? Huh? Do you think I wouldn’t have felt that way even without _this_?” And he gestured between them. “Jesus, Steven. You know me better than that.”

Steve felt like he’d been hit again. Or punched. In the gut. But he had thought a lot about this, thank you, and he was less emotional than Danny, better at facing reality. And he knew, he knew it could get awful. And he never wanted to eclipse the kids in Danny’s time or attention. That had been one of the main things that had kept him from telling Danny how he felt for nearly seven years, and it was even more true now. “You’ve got the kids, Danny. You have to think of them first. You have to put your family first.”

Danny glared at him, his blue eyes flickering with fire. “Please do not tell me that you think, even for one goddamn minute, that you are somehow _not family_.”

That stunned Steve, and maybe it shouldn't have. Yes, they were ohana, but he meant that in a “we’re a team” sense. And, yeah, Steve's team had always been his family. But Danny’s kids, well, they were "family" in another sense altogether. He tried to protest. But Danny wasn’t having it. Steve wondered how much thought Danny’d put into this those many days they’d not yet talked. Because he was in full-on-stubborn-mode, which gave Steve chills. The amazing kind.

“Nope. You’re still out of being able to argue with me. I can _not_ believe you would think that.”

Steve leaned forward, tentatively. “Do I ever get to argue back?”

“Probably not.” Danny wasn’t softening, but Steve didn’t really mind.

“Okay.” He smiled, and sat back.

Danny sighed one of his long-suffering sighs he saved just for Steve. “Now, take me out for brunch. You have got a _lot_ to make up for.”

And that put Steve back in his comfort zone, gave him something to do, and he sprang into action.

He’d anticipated an elaborate (and expensive) brunch, but Danny picked a tiny, out of the way place that was surprisingly not busy (maybe because it was still early in the morning). They sat in a booth in the back, and held hands under the table, and Steve was nearly giddy—although that might have been lightheadedness, though it didn’t go away after he ate. Between his sickness and this thing with Danny, he wasn’t sure he’d ever feel normal again. But he kind of didn’t mind right now.

After brunch, Danny drove them out to “their” overlook. The one where they went when they needed to talk, that place so many important, transformative decisions had been made.

They stood for a while in silence, watching the view, which they’d never truly looked at before. Steve was trying to stay in the moment, but when Danny spoke, he realized he’d been playing through the past seven years in his mind as well.

“D’you know how many important conversations have happened here?”

Steve looked away from the view and at Danny. He was pretty sure this wasn’t idle chat. That there was a reason he’d brought them here. “Yeah,” he muttered, as moments from some of those past conversations tugged at his heart.

But Danny was looking at him strangely. “More conversations than you know....”

Steve’s head tilted in surprise. “Oh?”

Danny’s hand went to his hair and mussed it—a gesture Steve recognized as Danny’s give-away gesture when he’d been hiding something from Steve and was about to be found out or confess it.

Reaching out for his hand, Steve sat on the wall, turning his back to the view. Tugging Danny close to him, so he was standing between his legs, he tried to look encouraging. “Tell me,” he prompted.

Danny smiled that uneven smile of embarrassment. “Well, there was that time I tried to tell Catherine she needed to stay.”

Steve flinched. Now, there was a name he hadn’t been expecting to hear from Danny’s lips, although maybe that had been naïve of him. He was pretty sure he didn’t need to ask when it had been. “What’d she say?”

“That there was nothing she wanted more.”

“Yeah, well. That was us, wasn’t it. Wanting but not being able to do anything about it.” Danny gave his hand a squeeze, and Steve looked up at him. “Why’d you do that, buddy?”

Danny closed his eyes, his head barely moved side to side. He sighed. “I wanted you to be happy. I _needed_ you to be happy. I hoped she could do that.” He opened his eyes and looked at Steve.

He swallowed, but didn’t reply—he didn’t really trust his voice at the moment, and he wasn’t sure how to reply to that. Part of him longed to ask if Danny hadn’t thought that it could have been _him_ that would have made Steve happy. But it seemed from Danny’s posture that he wasn’t expecting a reply, and that he had more to say, so Steve waited.

“So, ah...” he glanced up from Steve and out to the water, as though searching for the courage to admit more. “There was another conversation that happened here. Just recently.”

Steve looked at him, but Danny wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“With Rachel.”

Steve closed his eyes, tried to steady himself. When he looked back up, Danny was staring at him.

Pressing his lips together, Danny shifted on his feet. “I asked her to take me back.”

It came as no surprise to Steve. He’d been watching Danny edge closer to that inevitability ever since he’d found out about the divorce. Still. It made him anxious. She’d come between them a number of times before—not just at the hospital, not just the time she tried to get Danny back to Jersey... but a few other times as well. She’d been the one person Danny’d ever cancelled anything with Steve to be with. And, yeah. That stung. He hated himself for it, because if there was anyone who “got” to do that, anyone who had that right, it was her. But it still stung.

Danny extricated himself from between Steve’s legs and moved to sit on the wall next to him. Steve wasn’t sure if it was because Danny was worried about how Steve would take the next bit, or if he needed to be sitting for it, or what, but his heart was pounding in his ears.

“She said no, of course.”

“Danny, I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be an idiot.”

“What? I know how much you wanted—” But before he could finish, Danny kissed him. It was a _very_ nice way to be shut up.

“Shush. Just listen.”

Steve tried to keep the smile off his face, but he was pretty sure he was failing. “Okay.”

“She said no, because she said I wasn’t really in love with her, that I was in love with the idea of being a family. And she’s right. I am. I always will be. There will always be part of me that will want that. And want it with her, because she’s their mom. I can’t help that. I wish I could, but I can’t. But she’s right, I’m not in love with her. I’m not sure I ever _was_ back in love with her... I just wanted my family back.”

Steve was trying not to let his own selfish sense of victory come across, but it was really hard. Still, of course he understood. It had been a part of what had held him back—or how he’d justified being too scared to pursue a relationship with Danny, that was probably more honest. “Danny, of course you do. I get that. Of course.”

“But she said something else.” Ah. And now we’re getting to it, Steve thought. Danny took one breath, held it, then blurted out: “She asked me if I was in love with you.”

Steve grinned. “And?”

“Don’t be a jerk.” Danny stood back up, but Steve held on to his hands, so he couldn’t go far.

“Do I not get the answer to that either?”

Danny closed his eyes, probably so he wouldn’t be seen rolling them. “You know the answer to that.”

“You could still say it.” And Steve yanked on Danny’s hands so he practically fell into his lap.

The impact seemed to jar a thought loose in Danny’s head, because he pulled back as if he’d been shocked. “Actually, come to think of it, how did you know?”

To be honest, Steve still wasn’t sure. Because he remembered, very clearly, nearly seven years of going back and forth on it—between thinking Danny really did love him, and thinking it was all in his head. It was only recently he’d been certain, but there hadn’t been a moment of realization, a flash of clarity. It had just slowly become something he felt he’d always known.

He also wasn’t sure how long Danny himself had known. Which maybe was the bigger issue here. Because if it had been Rachel who had pointed it out (and only just recently), Danny still had a lot to process. Steve had more than a few years of knowing he was in love with his partner. If Danny only had a few weeks of seeing it.... Well, Steve wasn’t sure what exactly that would mean, but it did make him feel he needed to tread carefully.

As he was taking a breath to try to find some way to begin to reply, a group of rowdy tourists pulled up and started to get out of their tour bus to pose for photos with the fabulous view in the background. Danny looked momentarily upset that their peace had been disrupted, but then he seemed to think better of it. “We should go home anyway,” he said, and headed for the car.

Once they were on their way, Steve turned to him and asked: “Which one do we mean when we say that?”

He thought for a moment. “I’m not sure it matters. I think at this point, they’re both ours. Whichever one we’re at, as long as we’re together. My house only feels like home when either the kids or you are there.”

It was such a common sentiment; home as people rather than place, and Danny hadn't put any real emphasis on it, he was just stating a fact. But it hit Steve squarely in the chest. Being included, so easily, with the kids. That was not something he could have imagined, and hearing it repeatedly from Danny was something that would take him a long time to get used to. Steve nodded in agreement, then turned to look out the window to gather himself before tears started to cloud his eyes.

In the end, they stopped at Danny’s so he could pack some things, and then they went back to Steve’s—in part because reality kicked in and they realized his pills were there. They got some take out on the way, so they didn’t have to cook or clean, and they ate it, sitting outside on the lawn. And after, they lay on their backs on the grass, holding hands, gazing up at the bright blue cloudless sky. Just as they were starting to doze off, Danny whispered “Can we go to bed?” And it was a simple question, but the weight behind his words was not, and Steve knew exactly what he was asking, realized he’d maybe been a bit afraid Steve wasn’t... well enough... for it. And he knew he needed to make it very clear that he was.

Steve pulled himself back from the edge of sleep, propped himself up on his elbows, and looked into Danny’s eyes. “Yes, please.”

Danny seemed a lot more comfortable after that, much to Steve’s relief. Still, they went slow, lazily almost. Exploring, discovering, thrilled to find there was much they didn’t know about each other, even after all these years. Danny was surprisingly toothy with his kisses, and in the middle of a particularly intense kiss, he did this thing with his teeth, and it went simultaneously to Steve’s groin and also his head, and he gasped and shuddered, because that exact move, that exact feeling, he’d felt before. In his dreams. Real Danny, in real life, was literally doing exactly the thing the Danny of his actual dreams did. And he didn’t even know what to make of it.

And in the same instant he realized—and couldn’t believe he’d not realized until that moment—he’d not had one single dream about Danny since the night he’d crawled into his bed.

Danny could tell something momentous had just happened in Steve’s head. He pulled back a bit, and was sitting, gazing at him, a sweet but amused smile on his lips. _Oh, those lips_....

“What’s going on?”

“Ahh, alright. So, um. I’ve been having these dreams. Ever since I started getting sick. Really, really vivid dreams.”

Danny seemed puzzled at first, but then the light bulb went off. “About me?”

“ _Yeah_.”

Danny grinned wolfishly.

“Oh, you’re going to gloat now are you?”

“Is that why... is that what did it? The dreams? Not your impending doom?”

“Danny, my doom has always been impending. Especially since I met you.”

“You know, that’s almost romantic.”

Steve’s response to that was to pull him against his chest and kiss him roughly. But it didn’t deter Danny.

“Well, was it? Was it because of the dreams that you came over that night?”

“No. Well, in a way.” Steve tried for another kiss, but Danny held him off. “It was because I knew I couldn’t live with just the dreams....”

He moved close enough to Steve that he could almost kiss him, but stayed just inches away, and whispered: “Do you still have them?”

“Not since that night.”

Danny grinned again. “Because now you have the real thing.”

“Oh, my god, you are impossible.”

“You do have me, you know. You can’t get out of this. Not now.” And something flashed in Danny’s eyes, and Steve was pretty sure he knew what was coming... it had only been a matter of time before Danny brought it up. “We almost did this once before. Do you remember? Gosh, what, five years ago? I thought we were about to kiss... and you hugged me instead.”

“Ah... Danny, I’m sorry—”

“What did I say about that?”

“Right. But. Let me explain. Because I couldn’t do it drunk. Oh my god I wanted to, but I knew I’d regret it.” He laughed, bitterly. “Thing was, I regretted _not_ doing it. Every day since then.”

Danny pressed a soft kiss to Steve’s lips, acknowledging that regret. But with his eyes, he tugged him back to the present. “So, how do we keep that from overwhelming us?”

“I don’t think we even try. I mean. We can’t. There’s too much of it. There’s too much lost time. And that’s always going to suck. So maybe we just don’t even try.”

“That was remarkably insightful for a guy who’s been hiding his crush on me for seven years.”

“Danny. First of all, it was never a crush. Second. Hiding it? Are you serious?”

“Why, what would you call it? Deflecting reality by pretending to have a fake crush on me?”

“Yeah, okay, that’s fair. Actually, no. It’s not fair. None of this is fair. So we take what we can get, make the most of what we have... and we spend as much time together as we can. That’s all I need. Just you here with me. You by my side. It’s all I ever wanted.”

“Well,” Danny mused, running his hand down Steve’s bare chest. “There’s a difference between me by your side at work,” he bent down and kissed, right over Steve’s heart. “And me by your side, here in bed.”

“Yes,” Steve shuddered again. “I admit, that’s nice.”

“ _Nice_?”

“Oh, my god,” Steve groaned. “Nothing is going to change is it.”

“Now, _that_ is not fair...” Danny kissed Steve’s lips sloppily. “I think _this_ is a very nice change.”

Steve flipped them, so he was on top of Danny, and the sound Danny made when he did... yeah, that did stuff to Steve’s blood flow. Wow. “I’ve always liked having you in my house. I probably should have been more honest about that from the beginning.” He paused, and reflecting Danny’s words from before, he whispered: “It only feels like home when you’re here.” Then he pressed his body further onto Danny’s. “But I _really_ like having you in my bed. It makes me feel like I can face anything.”

Steve was putting so much of his weight on him, Danny had to struggle to talk, but he was smiling warmly as he did. “We can, you know. Together. We already know that about us. Maybe that’s why this isn’t as scary as it should be.”

Steve straightened, felt a little defensive. “I’m not scared.”

Danny put a hand to Steve’s face. “I know. And you will be sometimes. And so will I. But that’s nothing new.”

And Steve let all his weight rest against him, and kissed him till they were breathless. And if Steve had a fleeting thought about Danny being able to kiss away his pain and his fears, well it was a comforting thought, even if it was a bittersweet one. He moved to the side and let Danny breathe for a bit, and when Danny’d gathered himself, he returned to the question Steve had left unanswered.

“So, what I still want to know... is how did you know, before I did? I mean... I didn’t really see it till Rachel asked. And I feel like an idiot for that, so... how did you know?”

“That you love me, you mean?” Steve asked, trying not to grin like a fool, but determined to tease Danny just a little with the phrase he had yet to say.

It looked for a moment like Danny would protest that, but instead he pressed his lips together, swallowed, and then smiled. “Yeah. How did you know before I knew myself.”

Steve had been thinking about how to explain it, because he knew Danny needed to hear something. “So, remember I told you about the dreams....”

“Please do not say your dreams told you I love you.”

And, it was part of a longer sentence, but it was still those three words, and it shook Steve more than he’d been prepared for.

Danny noticed. He sucked a breath in, looked deeply into Steve’s eyes. When he spoke again, it was softer. “Did you dreams tell you that I am in love with you?” And it was still in the form of the question, but the emphasis he put on the key words went directly to Steve’s heart, or more like his throat, because he couldn’t speak. So, he drew Danny closer and kissed him.

“No, it wasn’t in my dreams. I didn’t dream that you loved me. I mean, I did. But I think they were just showing me what I already knew.” He kissed Danny again—they were like fuel, his kisses. How had he ever gotten by without them? “I honestly don’t know _how_ I knew. I think it was a gradual realization. I’d always wondered it if was wishful thinking, before when I’d think that maybe you did. And maybe it was the meds, or something, but at some point in the past month or so, I found myself feeling certain that you did... _do_. Love me.” He felt awkward by the time he finished talking. Had that even made sense? He didn’t really think it did, but it was the best he could make of it.

While he’d been talking, Danny had been drifting closer, like he was expecting another kiss. Steve didn’t pull back, but he didn’t move in either. So they sat there, almost kissing, for a good long while. And still they didn’t kiss. He could feel Danny’s breath on his lips. And still Danny said nothing. So, Steve asked the question he’d been longing to.

“How did _you_ know? Did you really not know till Rachel asked?”

Danny sighed, and leaned back a bit. “It sounds so dumb, but once she said it, everything suddenly made sense. And, yeah, I guess it wasn’t that I didn’t know before that, but I couldn’t _allow_ it somehow.” He closed his eyes. Steve could see him working it out. “After she said it, things started unraveling in my head, and it was a week later that you told me about your exposure.” Danny opened his eyes, and the rawness in them reminded Steve of how they’d looked that first night. “I’d been a wreck ever since that damn bomb in the first place. That might have been when I started realizing....” He paused, took a couple breaths. “But ever since you told me—and I couldn’t decide if I wanted to punch you or kiss you... and I couldn’t sleep. Yeah. So those were kind of obvious signs.” He ended on a smile, but his eyes still looked raw.

Steve tried to smile back. “What about now?”

“What?” Danny rubbed his eyes.

“Kiss me or punch me?”

Danny didn’t hesitate. “Both. Always.”

“Okay.” It was the perfect answer, of course, but Steve knew better than to smile.

Danny held Steve’s eyes intently. “I hate you so much and if you die on me I will never forgive you.”

Steve felt it to his bones, needed Danny to get that. He kept eye contact. Didn’t blink, didn’t breathe. “I know.”

It seemed to satisfy Danny. “Good.” And he lightened perceptibly, then shifted back onto his pillow a bit, gesturing at Steve to follow. “Now, come here. We have so fucking much to make up for.”

“Or you could put those words in a different order....” Really Danny’d made that a little too easy, but Steve couldn’t resist. He did half expect another punch, though.

But instead Danny shut him up with a kiss again, and that was definitely his new favorite Danny thing. Until he found his next new favorite Danny thing, about twenty minutes later.... And then another several minutes after that.

They did have a lot to make up for, and no idea how long they might have to do it. But that is always the case. And maybe they never would “make up for” the time they’d lost, and maybe they shouldn’t even try. Steve’s health hung like a cloud over everything, and it always would. But if they took one moment to be honest about it, they might have seen (and maybe one day they would see) that they might never have gotten together otherwise.

That night, neither of them slept very much. And there would be many more sleepless nights, both good and bad. But they were finally together, and that meant everything.


End file.
